


Santa Baby

by azephirin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 100-1000 Words, Christmas, Comment Fic, Community: 100_women, Cunnilingus, Domestic, Established Relationship, F/M, Ficlet, Hand Job, Holiday, Marriage, Pre-Canon, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-09
Updated: 2010-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-07 03:27:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azephirin/pseuds/azephirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>We only get to do this once.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Santa Baby

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://monica-catch22.livejournal.com/profile)[**monica_catch22**](http://monica-catch22.livejournal.com/)'s prompt "[John/Mary, Santa Baby](http://phantisma.livejournal.com/240501.html?thread=5896821#t5896821)" over at [Comment Porn Month](http://phantisma.livejournal.com/231800.html). Also for the [](http://community.livejournal.com/100_women/profile)[**100_women**](http://community.livejournal.com/100_women/) [table](http://azephirin.livejournal.com/74095.html) prompt "first."

Last year—well, he'll be forgiven for not remembering details, because what else is a man supposed to remember when his wife puts some kind of slinky Christmas song on the hi-fi, and she's wearing something very small and very red that covers very little, and she slides across his lap and purrs, "I've been a very naughty girl."

This year, he recognizes the song on the small record player in their bedroom, but Mary has flopped down on their bed in one of his old T-shirts, looking extremely pregnant and extremely miserable.

"Baby?" he tries.

Her only response is a baleful green-eyed glare.

He reaches around to rub at her back, which she permits with a relieved—and, he suspects, involuntary—sigh. He kisses her forehead, her temple—can't reach anything else from this angle.

"I look like a beached whale," she says mournfully, "and you're never going to want to have sex with me again."

John's pretty sure the apocalypse will have to arrive before that's true.

He nudges her back a little so that he can reach her mouth, kiss her once gently and then twice less gently. She allows it for a few seconds, then says, "How can you even want to do that? Are you beached-whale-sexual?"

He laughs and kisses her again. "That's exactly it, sweetheart. You've uncovered my dirty secret."

"Pervert."

She lets him guide her back against the pillows, though, and get the clothes off both of them. He kisses her again, rubbing her nipple gently with two fingers before he bends down to replace them with his tongue. She sighs, and her hands go into his hair. He licks them both, playing with them his tongue, before moving farther down. The logistics of going down on her now are slightly more complicated, but it's worth managing for the taste of her and the sounds she makes, how quickly she climaxes against his lips and fingers and tongue.

For him, she uses her hand, glossing it up and down his cock, over and over, until he's moaning and thrusting into her grip. There are careful fingers on his balls, just the way he likes, and he comes with a groan of her name.

Afterwards, he tucks her against him, her back to his chest, one of his arms supporting her belly and the other holding her close. "Merry Christmas, baby," he says.

"You don't wish it was like last year?"

"You weren't pregnant last year," he points out.

Her annoyed sigh and wriggle indicate that that was not the desired response.

He's not good with words, doesn't exactly know how to say this. "You can put on a record anytime," he says, feeling like he's stumbling. "You can put on sexy underwear any day of the year and God knows I will never object. But there—there isn't going to be another Christmas when we're expecting our first child. We only get to do this once."

"You big sap," she says, but her voice is soft.

"One of us has to be." He brushes her hair back from her face. "You're still getting your spanking from Santa, though. We're just delaying until you can appreciate it more."

"I was definitely naughty this year," she agrees. "Got myself knocked up and everything."

"That's pretty naughty all right. Since I'm sure your husband didn't have anything to do with it."

She stretches, and her voice is sleepy when she says, "This time next year, we'll probably be wrapping presents for the baby."

He kisses the back of her neck. "You're the best present I could ever have, baby."


End file.
